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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024661">Darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moz17/pseuds/moz17'>moz17</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fargo (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>American Sign Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:27:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moz17/pseuds/moz17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the darkness-<br/>Your hand-<br/>Light enough"</p><p>Aidan Chambers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was pitch black and he couldn't see. He could not tell where he was. His eyes were open and he couldn't distinguish any shapes around him. The darkness felt like darkness inside somewhere, it was a different sensation to darkness out in the open, out somewhere at night with no moon or lights, the darkness of the cover of forest. Instead, he could feel there was a structure around him – was he below ground? He wanted to move, to get an idea of what the ground beneath his feet was, but he had no way of knowing what was around him and so he remained in place, unsure as to how to proceed safely. It was so impenetrably dark that he feared putting out his foot and stepping into nothingness or into a trap.<br/>
There was a disturbance in the air around him, and he could feel movement – someone else was here. Another moment and he was convinced he recognised it as his partner's presence. He focused on the movement and read it as his partner signing to him, signing to him in the dark, how the hell was he meant to understand that? He remained on the spot and reached out his hands, grasping, curling his fingers only on empty air. His partner was too far away but they were both in the same space. He began signing, his sign name for his partner, one he never used in front of others. </p><p>[Grady]</p><p>[Grady!]</p><p>It was hopeless and absurd and he didn't know what else to do. He could make some kind of noise himself, but what would this achieve? He would not be able to perceive his partner's reply if he gave one and indeed, the act would expose them to danger. At least in the dark, they and their unseen enemies were equally at a disadvantage.<br/>
Unless it was someone who isn't at a disadvantage without light.<br/>
It was as if the presences were multiplying around them; they did not approach, did not come any nearer or make themselves known, yet he felt a steadily increasing accumulation of others, far outnumbering him and his partner. Helplessly, he continued to sign, his movements becoming mechanical, automatic, the blinking of a lighthouse signalling to the empty ocean. His partner was there, just there, but he could not move to reach him or see to find him. The space was impossibly full with others now, how big was this place they were in? What did they want from them? Panic began to creep up his chest and he tried desperately to move but could not; he found he could no longer sign either, his movements unnaturally slow and deadened, his limbs not obeying. He felt the air  shifting around him and knew his partner was continuing to sign and the darkness remained total as more and more shapeless others came between them.</p><p>-</p><p>He was thrashing on the bed, tangled in the bedsheets, his breath shallow and out of control, gulping and not getting enough air; his partner was trying to still him with one hand whilst also trying to get his attention with the other, waving. He let go of him, seeing he was with him enough to follow his signs; initially, he held his hands out flat in front of him, moving them up and down, the movements short, sharp, speaking of urgency. After a few moments, his gestures became slower, more rhythmic, almost a rocking gesture. Numbers held his gaze and then crossed his balled fists at the wrists before pulling them apart, his wrists turned outward. </p><p>[safe] </p><p>His thoughts were still scattered, flapping around, and he was in that confused in-between space, knowing he was awake but the dream still clinging to his skin. What must his partner have thought when he had begun flailing around the bed? Danger, that would have been his instinctive reaction, self-preservation, learned from experience.</p><p>Wrench raised his hands and alternately touched the tip of his left and right index finger to each cheek. </p><p>[nightmare] </p><p>Suddenly, there was a powerful, hot prickling at the back of his eyes which he tried to blink back, but he was too raw , still too much in-between, and some tears knifed down his cheeks. He began to sign and felt relief at being able to express himself and then his fear returned as the contents of his dream pressed on him. </p><p>[What if I lose my sight?]</p><p>His thumb and forefinger touching on each hand, he brought them together, then released them. Numbers tapped his temple, shaking his head.</p><p>[I don't understand.]</p><p>[What if I lose my sight? I won't be able to speak.]</p><p>The dream stuck to him, and he felt panic rising in him again at the thought of signing in the dark, not being able to see his partner and how he signed. </p><p>He could see his partner begin to sign and then think better of whatever it had been he wanted to tell him. Starting again, he instead signed:</p><p>[If it happens, we'll deal with it.]</p><p>[Oh, really?] A dismissive flick to the end of his gesture, attempting to hide his ongoing fright, which was undermined by the light tremor in his fingers. </p><p>[If I lose my sight somehow on the job, how will we deal with it? How will we work? How will I understand?]</p><p>[We will!] </p><p>There was a more aggressive finality to his signing.</p><p>[Give me your hand.] </p><p>Wrench complied. </p><p>[There's a language for this.] </p><p>Numbers' fingers separated from each other in wave-like movements. He took his hand and turned it palm up. </p><p>[Tactile] He finger-spelled it. [Tactile sign language]</p><p>Numbers' hands were warm – he always seemed to have more heat than him somehow. He hooked his index finger in between Wrench's ring and little finger, then touched his fingertip to his thumb, followed by joining his index finger with his partner's, before finally placing two fingers across his index finger. He didn't know what he was signing but his touch was grounding, soothing. He understood that his partner had already considered this eventuality, something you had to do in this line of work. </p><p>[What does it mean?]</p><p>Numbers repeated the tactile word before signing in his usual manner. </p><p>[safe]</p><p>Wrench kept his hands still,  not knowing what to say. Safe – not really the truth though, for them, it could change at any given moment, nothing was a given, a certainty.</p><p>[We'll learn it together. If we need to.]</p><p>[What if I lose a hand? What if I end up paralyzed?] </p><p>His movements were fast and sloppy, unlike his usual manner. </p><p>[We'll deal with it.]</p><p>Numbers touched his fingers to his face, brushing over his cheek, his dark eyes steady.</p><p>They resettled themselves in bed, covers pulled around them, and his partner kept his fingertips resting lightly on the back of his hand, sometimes tapping out meaningless rhythms, sometimes circling lightly, or remaining still. Although it was dark, his hands were light enough.</p>
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